


The Life Domestic (Or, Five Times Thorin Failed At Being Domestic And The One Time He Didn't)

by cellard00rs



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: 5 Times, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Vague Sexytimes, everybody survives, no one dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 16:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellard00rs/pseuds/cellard00rs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU! Battle of the Five Armies happens, Arkenstone business is settled and everyone lives - Thorin and Bilbo end up together and all is basically happily ever after save for the fact that it's hard to settle down when you're a dwarf warrior and rather lousy at the domestic side of life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Life Domestic (Or, Five Times Thorin Failed At Being Domestic And The One Time He Didn't)

And so it was, after the reclaiming of Erebor and the Battle of the Five Armies, that Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins found themselves quite settled with one another. Yes, there had been betrayal and heart break and the most terrible of misunderstandings but, as was the way of the world, rocky times gradually gave way to smooth sailings.

Sailings so smooth that Thorin requested that Bilbo remain with him forever more in his kingdom, remarking quite candidly that the hobbit was rather useful in diplomatic affairs (as well as in more intimate ones). While reluctant to agree, Bilbo eventually acquiesced under one condition, that Thorin travel back with him to Bag End to spend an undisclosed amount of time putting his property in order.

At first Thorin declined but then Bilbo made an offhanded remark that, on second thought, it would probably be for the best if he went on his own. The King Under The Mountain demanded an explanation. Bilbo explained that Thorin would not fit well within the mold of the Shire, remarking dryly, “You might be a King and a Warrior, but you are not at all adapt at anything remotely domestic.”

Taking this as a challenge (and a possible insult) Thorin demanded he accompany Bilbo and prove the hobbit wrong. And thus the following events did occur.

 

**1\. Laundry**

 

Really, Bilbo should have known better. Dwarf hands are not necessarily the most gentle in creation, so, naturally, when Thorin tried his hand at tailoring, it was bound to be a disaster. He could wash and dry their clothing sure enough but as to the mending, well…

“You do not like it?” Thorin asked with a frown as Bilbo inspected his newly ‘repaired’ waistcoat. He had lost the golden acorn buttons long ago but had found suitable replacements in Bree. He had been meaning to reattach them himself but Thorin, still set on proving Bilbo wrong about his level of domestic skill, had insisted that he do it.

As such, Bilbo was now faced with his nice traveling waistcoat having a set of golden buttons fastened on in the most ham-fisted, crooked fashion imaginable. Far too much golden thread had been used in the sewing and large, X shaped stiches wrapped around the shanks of the buttons to hold them into place. They did not even match up properly to the button holes, instead hanging awkwardly where they had been attached.

He fingered the buttons and looked at Thorin, shaking his head, “You, ah, tried.”

Thorin’s stormy eyes darted about and Bilbo was stunned to see the dwarf look as close to awkward as he had ever seen him. The look plucked at his heartstrings and he chuckled, “Come on then, it’s not so bad. I can fix it.”

“The blasted buttons kept _moving_.” Thorin accused, staring disdainfully at them and that just made Bilbo laugh harder, “Oh my! So you chose to punish them, did you?”

“Punish them?”

“They’re fastened down to the material as if by chains, not thread.”

Thorin sniffed, “Hmm, well they will not fall off now, will they?”

Bilbo gave one of them a hearty tug, “No. I would say not. In fact, it’ll be quite a task for me to remove them at all. As a matter of fact…”

Bilbo tugged the waistcoat on. He tried to button it up, but considering the aforementioned fact that they did not line up right, he gave up and shrugged, “I might just keep it this way after all. It might be most unfashionable but it is not as if it wasn’t such before. And it was _you_ who reattached the buttons. That gives it far more value.”

Thorin’s face shifted to something far warmer and Bilbo grinned, his decision made.

 

**2\. Shopping**

 

“You want _how_ much?” Thorin boomed in outrage.

“You heard me.” The vendor sniffed, “I’ve got the best pumpkins in all of Middle Erath!”

“You’ve got the most overpriced pumpkins in all of Middle Earth!” Thorin hissed, “That price is absolutely outrageous!”

“That price is more than fair! I’m the one losing out on the deal! These pumpkins go for double that price in Bree and feed the likes of royalty!”

“I _am_ royalty! I am Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King Under The Mountain!”

The vendor blustered, “Well _above_ the mountain the price is what it is! Now pay it or move on!”

Thorin looked ready to throttle the man and Bilbo, having only heard the last bit of the conversation, quickly interceded, “Ah, now, now! No reason to cause a fuss. I don’t need pumpkins that badly.”

“He insulted me.” Thorin snarled and Bilbo placed a gentle hand on his arm, voice soft, “That may be but there’s no need for bloodshed. He’s just a simple merchant trying to make his wages. Haggling is all part and parcel of the trade.”

Thorin relaxed but only marginally as Bilbo eased him away, their eyes meeting as the hobbit whispered, “You did right well enough on purchasing the carrots and such. I can handle this one. Shopping can be a…tricky business. Now tell me, how much does he want for the pumpkins?”

Thorin told him.

Bilbo turned to the vendor, scandalized, “You want _how_ much?”

 

**3\. Cooking**

 

A loud roar of outrage escaped from the panty, met with the clattering of pots and pans, only seconds later to be followed by the most colorful Dwarven cursing Bilbo had ever heard. And this was _after_ his grand adventure, where he had not only learned such words, but heard them in frequent abundance. 

“Is-is everything alright?” Bilbo asked from where he sat at the table in the dining room. His answer was more cursing as well as a faint trace of smoke in the air. A trace that was rapidly growing. He loudly cleared his throat, “There’s – ah – quite a bit of smoke out here.”

Once again there was no answer from Thorin and just as Bilbo started to rise he heard a voice thunder, “Stay where you are!”

Bilbo held up his hands in surrender, eyes wide as he resumed his seat and wondered how the dwarf knew he was going to come and offer assistance. Slowly the smoke seemed to dissipate and the crashes from where Thorin had been cooking died off. However, the tempest that before had been both visible and vocal was obviously still raging on within Thorin as he charged into the room and unceremoniously dropped a plate down on the table, “Dinner is done.”

Bilbo eyed the dish with some trepidation. It had most likely been a roast at some point. It _was_ certainly roasted, seeing as it was completely charred black. Well, one side of it at least. The other was a vibrant bloody red. It also looked as if it had been viciously stabbed all over. Similarly there appeared to be something to the side (vegetables?) but it was so mashed and discolored that it was hard to tell what it had once been.

Thorin looked fit to explode, his fists clenched, his face so fierce that poor Bilbo felt that he had no choice but to take up his utensils and at least _try_ to eat some of whatever was before him. He licked his lips and said, “Thank you, it looks…”

He searched his extensive vocabulary to try and come up with something complimentary and somehow still only managed, “It looks…well done.”

Thorin snorted out a loud breath and Bilbo had the decency to look sheepish as he went to slice off a piece of the roast. Though ‘slice’ would not be the correct term – more like ‘saw’ as he struggled to work through enough of it for a forkful. As he did so it occurred to him that Thorin had never once cooked on their journey. It had almost always been Bombur or occasionally Bofur. Never Thorin.

And as he took his first tentative bite of the roast he immediately knew why. It was almost a herculean feat not to immediately spit it out. It was extremely sour. And pointy! Why, oh why was it pointy? Where were the points _coming_ from? And then it somehow became spicy and dry and…

His eyes filled with tears but Bilbo managed to swallow the disgusting mouthful and offer a sickly smile, “Oh, my. Well, that-that…hit a spot…”

Thorin merely huffed and left the room. They never spoke of the meal ever again.

 

**4\. Repairs**

 

Bilbo had suggested a nice evening in by the fireside, reading and talking and relaxing as many a hobbit enjoyed. Thorin reluctantly agreed. As the night wore on it became obvious that Thorin was not suited to sitting still. Watching him fumble in his attempts to read a book was close to pitiful and he was far too restless besides. He ended up striding back and forth before the fire; hands clasped behind his back, face a thoughtful mask.

However his steady steps kept interrupting Bilbo’s own reading and finally Bilbo sighed, “Look, why don’t you find something to do?”

“Such as?”

Bilbo struggled to think of something that could occupy Thorin’s time. Obviously Bag End didn’t provide the type of entertainment and distractions one might have found at Erebor. Suddenly a thought came to him and he beamed, impressed with his own cleverness, “You could fix the gate out front! The door’s been jamming lately. The Gaffer’s tried his hand at it but it’s even been troublesome for him. Maybe you’ll have more luck.”

Thorin looked at little put out at the suggestion and Bilbo half thought that he would be told that this activity was beneath the King of Erebor but much to his surprise Thorin nodded curtly and disappeared. Bilbo grinned and got back into his book, quite losing track of time, until Thorin returned, looking pleased with himself, “It is done.”

“Right! Let’s have a look than, shall we?” Bilbo got to his feet and went outside only to see that the gate had been removed and replaced with what appeared to be a hulking stone barricade. He looked at it, blinked, rubbed at his eyes then looked again, “What is that?”

“Your new gate,” Thorin said proudly and Bilbo just shook his head incredulously, “How did you even-? Where did you get the rocks from? You didn’t even-even have enough time to-to-?”

“It’s a rough bit of work. That I’ll grant you. But in a few days I’ll gather better materials and make it more fortified.”

“I don’t-fortified? Thorin,” Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose, “It’s just…supposed to be a gate! A simple gate that visitors can go through and it’s not – Bag End is not a _fortress_. It doesn’t need…I mean, I’m surprised you didn’t dig a moat out here while you were at it.”

Thorin scowled, “I do not understand why you are displeased. Considering your reaction to visitors, I would think this a welcome change. Any dwarf would be proud to have such a fine piece of craftsmanship presented to them.”

“Well, I’m not a dwarf! And I _do_ like visitors!”

“Oh?”

“Yes!”

“Even your…what were they called? Sockville-Boggins?”

“Sackville-Baggins,” Bilbo corrected with a grumble but found his lips quirking, fighting off a smile, “And yes, very well, I will admit that I do not enjoy when they visit but there have certainly been other visitors worth having.” 

“Such as?”

Bilbo cleared his throat and avoided the dwarf’s eyes, “You were a visitor once. As I recall. Long ago.”

A lazy smile appeared on Thorin’s face and Bilbo felt his heart twist within his chest, cheeks heating up. Thorin gently poked his stomach, “I called you a grocer.”

“I remember.”

“Hmm, yet you do not remember not being overtly found of having dwarven visitors filling your home full to bursting.”

Bilbo snorted, “That was only because you lot did a fair amount of damage to my property!”

Thorin hummed in agreement before saying firmly, “But had we seen this gate awaiting us, we might have thought twice.”

“Maybe, but that’s because your dwarves. You’ve made a dwarven gate. A good dwarven gate, I’m sure but I want a hobbit gate.”

The glare Thorin shot him would have made him apprehensive in the past but now merely made him try to stand taller, facing him head on, “Thorin…”

The dwarf king cursed under his breath in his native tongue and proceeded to start taking apart his construction. 

 

**5\. Gardening**

 

“Thorin!” Bilbo Baggins shouted, “What have you done?”

A completely dirty, mud encrusted Thorin, lifted a large bucket of water above his head and dumped it, soundly soaking himself before answering, “Bit of work in your garden.”

“Bit of work?” The hobbit breathed, “There’s a massively huge, bloody hole in the middle of my flower bed!”

Thorin shook his head roughly, water whipping about at the action, before brushing one of his large hands down his face, “You said you wanted me to do some weeding.”

“Yes, yes – _weeding_! Not, not…” Bilbo gestured behind him and sure enough there was a very large, very deep hole in the ground. Piles of mud and muck had been tossed to one side as well as some weeds and, sorry to say, some once rather nice flowers.

Thorin merely shrugged, “I see no problem. I did as you bid. And considering my status, one would think you would be humbled to see me do such a menial task.”

Bilbo glowered, “You can try that with others if you like, but not with me. The…nature of our relationship dictates that we are equals no matter what your lofty title!”

Thorin raised one eyebrow and grinned, “Does it?”

Bilbo shifted from foot to foot as Thorin grew closer to him, his voice a deep, husky timbre, “And what, exactly, is the nature of our relationship?”

Bilbo’s mouth flapped soundlessly and Thorin chuckled, “Would you like me to say it aloud? Or better yet, announce it to your neighbors? I have no misgivings about going up to each and every hobbit in the Shire and telling them, but I daresay you might not like it. You are, after all, very much concerned with the nature of your reputation. Your…respectability…”

This empty threat was answered with an eye roll, “You know I don’t care about that. Not truly. I lost that long ago and am quite grateful for it. Considering what I got in return.”

“And just what did you get in return?”

“The love of a King,” Bilbo confessed in a shy whisper, positive that the tips of his ears were red. But then, returning his attention to the destroyed section of his garden, muttered, “And apparently the love of someone who doesn’t know what weeding is!”

“I _do_ know what it means! I am no fool! There are weeds there!” Thorin grumbled and pointed to a thin pile of greens mixed in with the flowers, half buried under rumble and soil. Bilbo let out an aggrieved hiss, “Fine! You removed _some_ weeds. That still doesn’t explain the hole! It’s enormous! The size and depth of a dried up pond! Or a grave! Which, considering what you’ve done to my poor garden, I’m half tempted to tell you to crawl into!”

“Threatening to kill me, are you?” Thorin’s arms shot out and wrapped around Bilbo, drawing him close, “I’d like to see you try.”

“Let me go!” Bilbo cried, scandalized, “You’re absolutely filthy!”

“Oh, that I am.” Thorin promised, eyeing Bilbo’s mouth.

Bilbo swallowed thickly, “An-and your wet! You’re ruining my clothes!”

“Well then, we’d best take them off,” Thorin murmured, “And quickly too.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo gasped, his eyes growing heavy lidded, “Stop. You’re…trying to distract me. So-so I won’t be cross with you anymore.”

“Is it working?” He returned slyly as he ran his tongue along the seam of Bilbo’s lips. Bilbo whimpered, his eyes closing as he let out a regretful sigh, “Maybe.”

“Only ‘maybe’? Hmm, best try harder then.” Thorin answered and with that started kissing the hobbit thoroughly. So thoroughly that Bilbo quite forgot himself and returned the kisses just as passionately as he received them. When Thorin finally did draw away, he found himself quite breathless, “Inside?”

Bilbo breathed in deeply and shook his head, “You really need to bathe first.” 

Thorin glowered, obviously unhappy that his seduction attempts were unsuccessful but then Bilbo remarked, “And then you should really fill in that hole.”

“Why would I bathe only to get myself dirty again?” He asked with a frown as he eyed the hole in the garden and Bilbo returned quite smoothly, “I wasn’t talking about that one.”

Thorin head reared back slightly, stunned, “That’s…quite lowbrow of you.”

Bilbo grinned, “I told you. I lost my respectability long ago.”

“That or you’ve spent too long a time with foul mouthed dwarves.” Thorin shook his head, “Very well. Bath first, then…”

Another kiss was had and Bilbo chuckled. 

 

**+1. ‘Resting’**

 

Later (much, much later) as they were lying side by side on their shared bed, Thorin confessed that while he did know what weeding was, it was in the nature of dwarves that once they started digging it was hard to stop. Not to mention he could have _sworn_ he saw a glint of something (gold, silver - it was hard to say) in the ground. Bilbo merely patted his hand, told him to go to sleep, and in the morning they would set about putting the garden back to rights.

Thorin raised one eyebrow, “You tire so easily?”

“Tired? I…no? What-what are you saying?” Bilbo breathed and Thorin rolled on top of him, lips going for one side of Bilbo’s neck, kissing gently before moving on to nibbling, sucking, _biting_ , until Bilbo let out a weak, keening moan. Thorin drew back enough to nuzzle gently at him, speaking against his skin, “I wish to have you again.”

Bilbo’s eyes grew wide, mind fairly boggled, “A-again?”

“Mm,” Thorin kissed his neck, “And again,” he kissed his jaw, “And again,” his mouth hovered above Bilbo’s, voice a whisper of breath, “And…”

Bilbo’s fingers twined their way through Thorin’s mane of dark hair and he drew him down for a full kiss, which Thorin eagerly returned. When at last they broke apart they were both fairly breathless and Bilbo felt as if more than the tips of his ears were red, no doubt his entire body a fairly alarming color as he asked bashfully, “Can you really-?”

Thorin took Bilbo’s hand in his and kissed the back of it before intertwining their fingers, “Gold is not the only thing my people are insatiable for.”

“O-o-oh?”

Thorin grinned, eyes glinting in the darkness of the bedroom, “You have your breath back?”

“I… _yes_.” Bilbo said the last with a level of enthusiasm that was most assuredly uncharacteristic of a hobbit. Or perhaps it was merely the Tookishness in him rising up again. Regardless of what it was; Bilbo had to admit that at this particular domestic skill, Thorin was far more than adequate. If anything he was beyond spectacular. But, for now, he decided it was best if he chose to keep it to himself. After all, if Thorin did not know he would feel the need to prove he was adapt at it – again and again and again.


End file.
